“‘Stay, sir,’ said he, ‘I do not mean attempting to thank you’ (he took a pocket-book from under his pillow), ‘let me but know what name I shall place here next to Mr. Mountford!’
“‘Sedley.’
“He writ it down.
“‘An Englishman too, I presume.’
“‘He shall go to heaven, notwithstanding;’ said the boy who had been our guide.
“It began to be too much for me. I squeezed his hand that was clasped in mine, his wife’s I pressed to my lips, and burst from the place, to give vent to the feelings that laboured within me.
“‘Oh, Mountford!’ said I, when he had overtaken me at the door.
“‘It is time,’ replied he, ‘that we should think of our appointment; young Respino and his friends are waiting us.’
“‘Damn him, damn him!’ said I. ‘Let us leave Milan instantly; but soft—I will be calm; Mountford, your pencil.’ I wrote on a slip of paper,
“‘When you receive this, I am at a distance from Milan. Accept of my thanks for the civilities I have received from you and your family. As to the friendship with which you were pleased to honour me, the prison, which I have just left, has exhibited a scene to cancel it for ever. You may possibly be merry with your companions at my weakness, as I suppose you will term it. I give you leave for derision. You may affect a triumph, I shall feel it.
“Edward Sedley.”